


On my own

by Gwenhata



Category: Mortal Instruments Series - Cassandra Clare
Genre: M/M, Songfic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-10
Updated: 2015-08-10
Packaged: 2018-04-13 10:58:31
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,211
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4519281
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Gwenhata/pseuds/Gwenhata
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>What if someone else had sacrificed their life in Edom? What if Magnus couldn't bear the unbearable?</p>
            </blockquote>





	On my own

**Author's Note:**

> Hello everyone! So this is my first work in English (I'm French). So, as you may have understood, the fic is based on the original version of on my own, [ Mon histoire from Les Misérables ](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=RAaM0xupW_U).  
> This fic was beta-d by laurenathalasa whose work you can read on Fanfiction.net (please, check her fictions, they're very good!) at [ laurenathalasa ](https://www.fanfiction.net/u/6010476/laurenathalasa)

Je suis toute seule encore une fois - I’m alone, once again  
Sans une amie, sans rien à faire – Without a friend, with nothing to do,  
Je suis pas pressée de retrouver – I’m not in a hurry to come back to,  
Ma solitude et ma misère – My loneliness and my poverty,  
J'attends que vienne le soir – I’m waiting for the night,  
Pour l'évoquer dans ma mémoire – To speak about it in my memory,  


The streets were bathed in the sunset light. Buildings were painted gold, orange and sometimes pink. The darkening sinuous streets promised adventures to those who wandered aimlessly, and, for the briefest instant, Magnus wondered what it would be like to enter Paris’s darkest side. He had seen it only a couple of times, centuries ago, long before the Revolution. What he had seen there had been depraved, lustful and deeply alluring.  
He shrugged and kept walking. Magnus had not been feeling well lately. He’d come to Paris at the end of the 2000’s, giving up on his High Warlock Status to live something else entirely. New York had become a weird place to be. Everywhere was a memory, most of them very sad, and his repulsion towards Shadowhunters and faeries had inexplicably reached a new peak. So he’d called Tessa, asked her to grant him asylum, and jumped in the first plane to join her.  
Since then, he’d been working as a regular warlock, helping people with minor injuries. Even if he had the power to challenge the current High Warlock of the City, he’d had no wish to do so. There were expectations thrown upon you when this title was yours. You had to go to parties, to take care of the city’s peace, and to deal with Shadowhunters, which Magnus didn’t want to do. So he remained at his place most of the day and spent his evenings out.  
But slowly, insidiously, something had crept on him. He couldn’t pinpoint the exact moment when he’d felt the pang of loneliness hitting his chest or the first night he’d waken up reaching for someone next to him, only to find an empty, cold space. Since Etta, all those years ago, there had been no one. And Magnus wished, more often than not, that he’d found someone to repair the damages she’d done.  
Here, in Paris, he had thought he could build a new life, find a new companion and enjoy the decadency offered by the city. In fact, even a cat would have been nice by his standards, anything to keep him company, really. But for now, he was alone, wandering in the streets. He waited for night to fall upon the ancient buildings, to drape the city in mystery. In this setting, when only streetlights lit his path, he liked to imagine his life, here, with someone.  
He had stumbled to find the right person to accompany him in this great adventure but he’d finally come up with his dream companion. He imagined a tall, handsome man. One with jet black hair and eyes so blue you’d only be able to drown in it. He’d dreamed of shyness and broad shoulders, of ivory skin and of bravery. He’d thought about love and death. He had shaped a Shadowhunter…And, why not? A dream would not kill him and that would be his first.  


Je marche seule et chaque nuit – I walk alone and every night,  
Les rues de la ville m'appartiennent – The city’s streets are mine,  
Toutes mes pensées s'envolent vers lui – All my thoughts go to him,  
Et je mets ma vie dans la sienne – And I put my life in his hands,  
Paris dort; dans le noir – Paris sleeps, in the dark,  
Je peux m'inventer mon histoire – I can imagine my story. 

So at night, he walked in the city, imagining his Shadowhunter–Alec, like Alexander the Great- the feeling of his calloused hands in his, the tone of his voice, the way his laughter would ring in the air. And every time, he fell deeper for this image he had created. At first it had been nothing but a passing thought, an ironic icon he’d created to make fun of himself. But as the loneliness grew, he’d just clung harder at this person he’d made.  
It was kind of a twisted feeling. He was in love with a creation. Sometimes, he missed him so much that he swore he could hear him in the darkness, a deep, loving voice that always led Magnus to the Seine. The river crossed the city like a green artery that spread blood to the city. The warlock would close his eyes and picture his perfect, made-up life.  
They would be sitting on a bench, talking animatedly. Alec’s eyes would be filled with passion and love. He would speak with his hands, all his energy focused to convey his message. He wouldn’t notice his hair falling in his eyes or the looks of the passersby given to him. And Magnus would admire his lover’s fierceness and smile gently. Sometimes he would interrupt his boyfriend by a sweet kiss, enjoying the sandalwood scent of the Shadowhunter’s skin, the mint-like taste of his lips.  


Mon histoire – My story,  
C'est un rêve qui commence – It’s a dream that begins,  
Dans les pages – In the pages,  
D'un conte de mon enfance – Of one of my childhood tales. 

Les yeux fermés –Eyes closed,  
Mon prince enfin m'enlace – My prince finally embraces me,  
Et je prie pour que jamais – And I pray,  
Son étreinte ne se défasse – For his embrace never to stop.

Sometimes they would seat on the riverbanks, holding each other tightly. Magnus would tell Alec everything he’d lived in this city, from his first travel here, in the early XVIII century, to his return, more than thirty years ago. He would speak about the vampires and the role he played in the Revolution. He would then recount coming here when Tessa lost Will, how heartbroken she’d been and how he’d sworn to himself he’d never fall in love like this, this kind of love that came, wrecked your life, and then left you crying helplessly in a corner after it was done.  
At that point, he would look up at Alec who would have taken his hand. They would share a look filled with understanding. Alec would cup his face, smiling, and kiss him tenderly. There would be no rage, just love and care. After breaking the kiss, Magnus would bury his head in the crook of his lover’s neck, climbing on his lap to do so. They would stay in this position for a while. Because there was no rush when they were together, nothing to do. The night was theirs and neither wanted it to end.  


Avec lui – With him,  
Je ne suis plus la même – I’m not the same anymore,  
J'aime la pluie – Yet I love the rain.  
Et quand on se promène – And while we walk,  
Nos deux ombres –Our two shadows,  
Comme deux géants qui s'aiment –Are like two loving giants,  
S'allongent à nos pieds – Stretching from our feet,  
Et vont se mirer dans la Seine – To go admiring themselves in the Seine. 

On rainy nights, Magnus would just go to a café he loved, on the City Island (l’île de la cite), facing Notre-Dame. He loved settling there to watch the great monument. He couldn’t get enough of the feeling that some things were older than him and that’s why he loved Europe and Asia, there was so much to see, so much to discover, so many things that had crossed the ages. So many things that had appeared long before him and which would disappear long after. He felt so much better knowing that, as if his life wasn’t that long anymore.  
He would settle outside, on the terrasse, waiting for Alec. The owner of the place would bring him two coffees and a plate of cakes and leave Magnus alone. He never asked any question, nor did he close his bar. He would wait for Magnus to go. The warlock had once asked why and the guy had told him that he didn’t like to leave people by themselves in the streets. Magnus had shrugged. The guy didn’t understand; he wasn’t alone. Alec would come, and they would enjoy their night together, as per usual.  
The Shadowhunter would explain his latest adventures to Magnus, recounting how incredibly stupid his parabatai had been or how reckless his sister was sometimes. Magnus would stare at him lovingly, paying attention to every little detail about his lover like the curve of his neck, the determined set of his jaw, the line of his cheekbones and the arch of his eyebrows. He would stare at his beloved’s blue eyes, would lose himself in their sapphire lands that shone brighter than the sun. He knew he tended to get cheesy about his boyfriend but no one cared, after all, the guy was the fruit of his imagination, as painful as it was to say.  
The coffees drunk, Magnus would take Alec by the hand and they would take a walk alongside the Seine. If the rain had not stopped by now, they would just play, running and splashing each others like great kids. They would end up soaked, but happy. But when the clouds had gone away, they would just stare at their shadows stretching to the river, smiling. They both loved the fact that, in the dim glow of the streetlights, their shadows sported little to no difference, all prejudices long forgotten.  


Je sais bien que j'ai tout inventé – I know that I’ve imagined all this,  
Je sais bien qu'il n'est jamais à mes côtés – I know he’s never by my side,  
Et pourtant, je continue à croire – Still, I keep believing,  
Qu'avec lui, j'écris mon histoire – That with him, I write my story.

Of course, come morning, Alec would be gone. He’d have fled to the Institute to live his Shadowhunter life. Or that’s what Magnus told himself. He’d be left with nothing to do, no one to love. He’d go to his house to mourn the temporary loss of his imaginary lover. Sometimes, during the day, he would find himself looking for a familiar pair of blue eyes or reaching for his lover’s hand. But he only found misery.  
Sometimes he’d stop by Tessa’s to see his friend. Every time, he felt ill-at-ease in her little apartment, under her sad look. She’d stare at him, worried and desperate and every time, he wondered why she stared at him this way. There was nothing to feel sorry about. He had never talked about Alec or why he’d created him. He had always told her that, at night, he went drinking or clubbing and she’d always seemed to accept this.  
Little did he know that Tessa was the reason he felt so empty, so lonely. He didn’t remember going to her after escaping Edom after Alec’s sacrifice. Gone was the memory of his father, asking for his life and Alec offering his. So was the awful feeling of seeing Alec being ripped to pieces by demonic hands while his family screamed, begged and cried. When he’d come back to Earth, to their realm, Magnus had fled. He’d retrieved some stuff from New York, texted Catarina to tell her and taken the first plane to Paris.  
Tessa had been waiting at the airport. She had found a broken Magnus. She had taken him to her home and tried to take care of him but he didn’t want to live anymore. He was full of grief for his lost love, of remorse for having broken the young boy’s heart and of guilt for letting him die. That was too much to bear, even for an immortal as wise as him. There was no “bearing the unbearable” in this situation. At least, when she’d lost Will, she’d known he had died of natural death, happy and loved. Alec had died in sacrifice, leaving an even more broken family behind and thinking Magnus didn’t love him.  
She had soon called Catarina for help. Together they had tried to cheer Magnus up but he wouldn’t escape his tormented mind. He would walk around aimlessly, trying to find purpose to no avail. So they made a decision. One that would change everything. They erased his memories of Alec, twisting his heartbreak so he thought that he was still not over Etta’s departure. That had been hard and they both had been exhausted at the end but at least, Magnus would not die of grief.  
Catarina had then disappeared but Tessa had seen the results. Of course, Magnus now acted like a living person, taking clients and enjoying some good times, but, most nights, he roamed the city talking to himself. She saw how he followed the paths he had strode across with Alec. And she kept wondering if that was really what was best for him. She kept an eye on him, following him. Sometimes he would fall asleep on a bench, and Alec’s name would escape his lips. In the morning, he would act as if everything was great but she knew better. You could erase the memories but the love remained.  


Oui, je l'aime - Yes, I love him,  
Mais, comme les nuits sont courtes! – But how short are the nights!  
Au matin, il a repris sa route – By the morning he’s on his way,  
Et le monde, - And the world,  
Redevenu le même – Became once again, the same,  
A perdu ses couleurs – It has lost its colors,  
Et l'arc-en-ciel son diadème – And the rainbow’s lost its diadem. 

Magnus knew nothing of the story, he ought to thank his friend’s work for that, but he hated the gloomy atmosphere in Tessa’s place and the way she looked at him, so, most of the time, he didn’t stay for long. He escaped, as soon as he could, to the streets he loved so much. Really, he spent close to no time inside, loving too much the memories the sinuous streets of Paris carried with them.  
When he roamed the city during the day time, he wondered how he could have fallen so deep for a city and for a creation. While New York brought memories of heartbreak and of loneliness, Paris offered some kind of artificial comfort, a feeling of a love and fond memories of buildings he’d never seen before. It was as if he’d been there, after his last visit, to see the city and as if he’d forgotten everything about that trip. How else would he explain knowing his way around the city when the last time he came was in 1937 which meant, almost a century before? The city had changed but Magnus felt like he knew every building, every street like the back of his hand. He knew, instinctively, where to go to eat with Alec and what to see here.  
Then, Alec appeared and every concern was wiped out by the teenagers’ shining presence. Everything was love, passion and fun. The boy was like a drug for Magnus, intoxicating, deluding and addictive. When they were together, the world showed the most beautiful colours, spun until none of them could tell what was real and what was not. All went in a blur of loving gestures and sweet words.  
In the morning, everything became grey once again. Magnus went to bed, slept for a couple of hours, got up to deal with a few clients (mostly werewolves) and then waited for the night to fall. All day long, he had this feeling of loneliness burdening him. How accustomed could one get to never being alone for a need like this to take over him sixty years later? It had been so long since he’d lived with someone last so how could he begin to miss it now? He should barely remember the feeling by now…

Oui, je l'aime – Yes, I love him,  
Mais je suis seule au monde – But I’m alone in this world,  
Toute ma vie j'ai attendu une ombre – All my life I’ve been waiting for a shadow.  
Mon histoire – My story,  
Est une coquille vide – Is an empty shell,  
Un rêve plein de douceur – A sweat dream,  
Dont je n'ai jamais eu ma part – Which I never got to live. 

Oui je l'aime – Yes, I love him  
Toute seule dans mon histoire – On my own, in my story.

But no. He lived his life, missing something he hadn’t had in a while, suffering for as long as the sun was out. Then, by night, he would give himself the impression that he wasn’t alone anymore and the vision he conjured was so strong that he could actually lose himself in it. And every day, he longed for more and more of Alec. Like some sort of addict, he would have killed for the sun to set sooner, for the moon to take over the sky. He hated summer with a passion for the sun seemed never to set, still shining brightly at 10PM, ruining his nights.  
And yet, month after month, he relinquished his life for a dream under the worried gaze of Tessa. She knew she could not let this happen anymore. She saw how tired and miserable he was, even at nights. The fact that he succeeded in remembering even Alec’s name gave out everything. There was no going back, no alternative. Magnus was stuck in a delusion; he would not give up on it. His friend could see the path stretching in front of her. Slowly, the warlock would forget to live. He would rely on his imagination to prolong the life of a lover that he had lost and did not remember. It was hardly fair; and she knew that, by persisting so much, he would probably recover his memory. Even the most powerful spell could not resist the attacks of a broken heart and Magnus’s was like glass shards, piercing everything.  
He would fall back into that spiral, would begin crying and hurting like before. There was no getting better for those whose heart had been smashed so thoroughly. There was no more escape for Magnus, except death maybe. And Tessa hated this. She knew she would eventually have to kill him, to free him of this story he’d built on his own, to free him of his own pain. But that meant fulfilling Magnus’s father’s plan. There was a reason why he’d taken Alexander. He’d fed on the pain he’d created, fed on Magnus and the Lightwoods. And he had known. He’d known that Magnus would be desperate. And Tessa wondered if, with Catarina, they hadn’t caused more harm than good in trying to help Magnus. If erasing his memory had really been the only solution.  
That night, following him around the city while Magnus was talking to a long-dead Alexander, she understood. There was no way around it, no escape. Just hurt and unfairness.  
This night Magnus died, murdered by one of his closest friends. He died smiling because, in that short moment before Death claimed him, he felt Alec’s kiss on his mouth, a promise of being reunited soon. A promise of company. His story had come true.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading!


End file.
